


360 Degrees

by lilaccoffee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically it's their lives together and all that jazz, Fluff, Gastric Bypass Surgery, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, It's good I promise, Like you can infer what happens after the ending but the gist of it is there, M/M, Overweight, Pet Names, Surgery, all that good stuff, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2985548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaccoffee/pseuds/lilaccoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis, a previous gastric bypass patient, now works at the hospital where the life-saving surgery was performed on him. His job is to talk to help motivate and reassure patients in line for the surgery. It's in the same room he was in five years ago where he meets Harry, twenty seven years old and six hundred thirty-nine pounds, striving for his weight and life to do a three hundred sixty degree turn around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	360 Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a long time to complete. Research was done, I promise, and although I tried to keep this realistic, it is a work of fiction after all. This was the first really grown up fic I've ever written, so I hope it's enjoyed xx.

The way some people choose to live is absolutely heartbreaking. I see suffering everyday, and it's hard to watch and remember I was in the same position ten years ago. It's difficult to accept that not everyone is going to be like me and want to change. 

My job is to support people who are thinking of Gastric Bypass surgery. I run a support group on Mondays and do private sessions any other day of the week. My job is to encourage people to do what's best for them.

Ten years ago, I was six hundred forty seven pounds. Now I am one hundred eighty five pounds. I never thought I'd make it to where I am now, and that's what I like to tell the people in my support group. I show them how two people can fit in the waist of my old pants and tell them it's the greatest feeling. I tell them it won't be easy, but that it's worth it and they can do it. 

So many people try to quit, but I grab their hands and say, “you can do this. You can get your life back, just don't give up.” It helps some, but not all. My doctor, whom is my boss, has to remind me that it's their choice, not mine, and that I can't help them all. It's hard to admit, hard to accept, and I don't want to, but I have to, because it really isn't my choice. All I can do is be there for people with whatever they choose to do.

One of the most heartbreaking situations was five years ago. I went into the room my doctor told me to, looked at the person's file as instructed, then looked up. By that time, I knew the person was a man, knew he was twenty seven, and knew his name was Harry Styles. What I didn't know is that he'd be all alone. 

“Hi,” I greeted, setting the file down and taking a seat on the stool in front of him.

Harry smiled shyly, looking down at his stomach and adjusted his shirt. 

“I'm not going to weigh you,” I assured. “That's not my job. I'm Louis and I'm only here here to talk to you. I'm not going to judge you. All I want to do is offer you support before, during, and after surgery.”

He breathed out in releif. “Good. I need that.”

I decided then that I liked his voice. It was slow and deep, calm and soothing. It was so different from mine. 

“I can see that.” I frowned. “Where's your family, Harry?”

“I don't know,” he confessed. “I moved out as soon as I graduated high school and didn't look back.”

“How come?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “They were embarrassed about my weight and so was I.”

I looked at him for a few minutes and decided that he was beautful. I won't lie, he was severely overweight, but I didn't care, because he wanted to get healthy and that's all that really mattered to me. 

I even smiled at him and said, “They shouldn't be embarrassed by you. You're trying your best to get healthy, and I'm proud of you for taking this step. I know it's hard, but you did it, and that's the biggest step of this whole journey. As much as I want to, I can't promise you that it'll be easy, but it's so, so worth it.”

“Do you mind if I...” He trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. 

“No, of course not,” I answered. “Six hundred and forty seven pounds. Currenty one hundred and eighty five.”

His eyebrows raised. “Wow. Good job. That's great, Louis.”

“I know,” I said. “The surgery does a lot, but the rest is up to you. You can do it, too. I believe in you. From now on, I'm here for you.”

“Six hundred and thirty nine pounds,” he announced suddenly. “That's how much I weigh. In case you were wondering.”

I didn't smile sadly or offer sympathy or anything like that. I simply admired him. And even though he had more fat on his face than necessary, I still found him stunning. He had dark curls and green eyes and dimples, and I was always a sucker for dimples. 

“You can do it,” I told him again. “You can take back your life. You're only twenty seven, you have so much to give. Don't let your weight impaire you for your whole life. This will be one of the best decisions you'll ever make, I promise you.”

“How scary is it?” he asked. I hated the look in his eyes. I couldn't let this boy back out, that was a promise I made myself right then and there. 

“Pretty terrifying,” I replied, “but worth every second. It hurts after, I won't lie, but I can honestly say that I would still have gone through with it if I knew the pain I was going to be in after.”

“I'm not good with pain.” He swallowed hard. I liked the way his lips moved when he spoke. 

“You'll be fine,” I reassured. “Please, go through with this. You have so much offer, but you can't do it like this. You need to get healthy, that's your first step. Then you can be happy, because that's important, too. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I want to do this. I want to be healthy and happy and be able to go to the grocery store without having to ride one of those motorized scooters because I get too tired to walk.”

I nodded encouragingly at him. “You can do that. Make that your goal. I'll be there for you every step of the way as you try and reach it.”

“What if I feel like giving up one day?” he asked. 

“You will, but then you have to remember why you're doing this,” I replied. “This is for you and not anyone else. If you make yourself healthy for you, you'll feel so much better afterwards. This will be the hardest but best thing you'll ever do, and as long as I'm here, you won't do it alone.”

He smiled at me. “Thank you, Louis.”

“Of course.” I smiled back, because I really liked his smile and I wanted him to do it more. I just liked him. 

//

The next time I spoke to Harry was within the next two weeks via phone. He had my number from our session together and he called me first. Not that it matters, but. 

“Hello,” I greeted him, falling back on my couch as I brought my mobile up to my ear.

“Louis, hey.” He sounded out of breath. 

“Is everything okay?” I inquired. “You're panting.”

“Yeah, um.” He stopped to catch his breath. I grimaced. I remember when that used to happen to me, how breathless I could get at times. “The doctors told me I have to lose fifty pounds before they can perform the surgery on me,” he continued once he had regained his breath. “You know, for safety reasons and all that.”

“So you're in line for surgery. That's good news, Harry,” I said cheerfully. 

“It is, except for the fact that I can't lose any weight,” he said. “It's been a week and I haven't even lost a pound.”

He sounded so sad, so heartbroken, and my heart clenched. I had to lose sixty pounds before my surgery to have it performed on me safely with lower chances of something going wrong. I know how hard it really is to lose weight. 

“Well, what have you been doing?” I asked him, trying to keep my tone light so Harry wouldn't think I was judging him. I really wasn't. 

“Um.” He paused to collect himself. “I've been trying to eat less. Vegetables and things. I tried to throw out the junk food and go for walks, but it's so hard.”

I sighed. “I know it is. I've been there, remember? Look, how about I come over to your flat tomorrow and help you get started on weight loss? We'll do it together, okay? I'll go for walks with you and I'll throw away all of your junk food, then we can do some sit-ups together. We'll just start with that. Does that sound alright?”

“It sounds like a start,” he replied. “Thank you, Louis. For everything.”

“It's what I do, Harry.” I smiled to myself. “I'm going to go now, okay? I have your address, so you don't need to worry. I'll see you tomorrow at nine for our walk. I'll bring over some protein bars—they're a good substitute when you're trying to lose weight.” 

“Thank you so much,” he repeated. “That would be great. Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow at nine. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” I pressed the red phone button on my screen to hang up. I was determined to do this for Harry. 

//

By the time we had walked five minutes, Harry was out of breath. He was trying to cover it up, but each shuddering step jostled him in ways that knocked it out of him. He was so out of shape. I'd have to help him work hard on getting somewhere so he could make progress with his fifty pound goal. 

“I'm so sorry.” He panted, stopping to place his hands on his knees. “God, this is so embarrassing. How long have we been walking for?”

“Five minutes,” I answered, trying to keep the sympathy out of my tone. I knew he didn't need that. When he groaned, I was quick to say, “This is your first workout, don't worry about it too much. If you do this every single day, it'll become so much easier. Especially as we increase the amount of time you'll be walking for.”

He sighed. “I know. I'm just—Usually I hide away in my flat when things become too much, but you aren't letting me run. Which is good, because I need that. It's just that I'm embarrassed because I haven't gone walking in years and I'm so fat and it's gross.”

I wanted to stop walking right then and comfort him, to tell him it was okay and that we could stop. But it wasn't okay, so I didn't let him stop. I wanted to help him, not feed into the habits Harry had formed over the years. 

“I understand,” I said instead. I wanted him to comprehend what I had been telling him since we first met. I want him to know that I was on his side, that I got what he was going through. So I told him that. “Harry, you know that I've been on your end of things. It was a long journey, and I wish now that I had someone like me supporting me then. Someone you was there for me through everything and didn't judge me. Someone who understood and wanted to do nothing but encourage and help me. So, with that in mind, will you allow me to help you? Because this won't work if you don't let me.”

“Okay.” He turned his head to look at me, his face shiny with sweat that dripped into the folds of his face. “I want you to help me, but I'm scared you're going to be like everyone else. That's stupid, though.”

“It is,” I agreed. “My job is to not be a judgemental asshole like seventy five percent of the world.”

He snorted. “Isn't that the truth.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I tried not to laugh, even though his ego could use the confidence boost. 

“How about I come over tomorrow afternoon so we can go grocery shopping together?” I asked to change the subject. 

“Sure,” he confirmed with a nod. He wiped his forehead, damp from perspiration. “And you'll take all my junk food away?”

“Right,” I answered. “You want to lose weight, right?”

“I have to if I want to go through with the surgery. Which I do,” he replied. 

Harry's strides were getting smaller and smaller as he attempted to get his breathing back to normal. I knew he was tired, but I couldn't let him quit. We were so close to a thirty minute walk and I knew how good he would feel about himself when I told him he'd completed it. 

“Then we'll keep this up,” I declared. “Thirty minute walks every day for the next two weeks, then we'll increase it to forty five. How does that sound?”

He hesitated. “This is going to be a long process.”

I fought back a wince at the look in his eye. I wouldn't let him go running back to the comfort of hiding in his flat and eating food all day. I couldn't see a young guy die because they let their weight get so high that it caused his heart to burst. 

“I know, but the surgery is on the other end of it, and a healthy body and life is on the other end of that surgery. You're just going to have to work for it,” I said. 

“I know,” he told me. I left it at that. 

//

At one o'clock the next afternoon, I knocked on Harry's door, wallet in my back pocket, an empty trash bag in my hand, and a box of promised protein bars in the other. They were chocolate flavoured so he would at least feel satisfied when he was really getting something healthy. 

Harry opened the door after a few moments, hiding his body behind it until he realized it was me. He offered me a smile and stepped back. 

“Oh, hey,” he spoke, opening the door wider to let me in. I scanned my eyes over his small flat, the TV in the corner and a large arm chair in front of it, the kitchen with chocolate wrappers on the counter. I had a lot of work to do. “Sorry about the mess,” he continued. “I should have cleaned, I'm so sorry.”

I placed a hand on his arm. “It's fine, honest. Here”—I handed him the box of protein bars—“are the bars, as promised.”

“Thank you.” Harry accepted them with a smile and waddled into the kitchen to set the box on the table. Then he turned around, bottom lip sucked into his mouth. “Where do you want to start?”

“Your pantry,” I answered. “Where is it?”

“Right there.” He pointed to a tall, skinny cabinet beside the fridge, still knawing on his bottom lip. As I went to open it, he warned, “There's a lot of stuff in it. Like, bad stuff.”

I didn't respond in my attempts to make him feel more confident. I pulled out the top drawer and was met with the sight of cracker boxes, chip bags, and cookies. Lots of cookies. Viva Puffs, Oreos, shortcake, icing. More than anyone should ever have at once. 

The next row had pastas, ranging from spaghetti to rigatoni and everything in between. There were also more cookies in that drawer. More Oreos, peanut butter, sugar. Everything. Something in my stomach twinged, and I had to look away for a second. I hadn't eaten very many junk foods since my Gastric Bypass surgery, and anything I had consumed was tiny, one bite candy bars that typically made me sick after. All the good foods I once enjoyed never stayed in my stomach. It was the worst side affect, even if it helped me stay on track. 

Of course, Harry took this the wrong way. He winced, crossing his arms in front of his belly and closed his eyes. 

“I know, it's awful,” he mumbled. “God, I'm so ashamed.”

His hands twitched toward the food before he yanked them back and turned around. I learned a lot about Harry Styles in those few seconds and why he was so overweight.

“Food is your comfort, isn't it?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral. It was easy to do so. I wasn't judging him. I was just trying to understand so I could help him lose the weight he needed to. 

Slowly, he turned back around, nodding. His bottom lip trembled as his stomach knocked over a notebook from his kitchen table, but he pushed me away when I went to hug him. 

“Don't!” His voice was raised in panic. “My body is disgusting, don't hug me.”

I touched his cheek, cupping it with my palm as I pressed a kiss to his forehead. It startled us both, but neither of us pulled away.

I said softly, “I don't think you're disgusting. I think your health is at risk, but I don't think you're disgusting.”

He grinned. “You're good at your job, Louis.”

“Thank you.” I smiled back. We hadn't moved away from each other yet. “One day, you'll have the body you want, and I'm going to remind you of the time you weighed over six hundred pounds. When I say that, I want you to smile and tell me you did it.”

He moved away from me, going to his pantry and taking out a box of Oreos. I was about to say something, but he opened the trash bag and threw them in. When he looked back up, his eyebrows were raised. 

“Are you going to help me?” he questioned. 

I rolled my eyes as I picked up two chip bags, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from grinning in giddy. He was so cute, and I was so in like with him. 

It was at that moment that I started to understand him. Harry was a young man who needed reassurance and someone to love him regardless of what he looked like. If I ended up being that person, than I'd never abuse my power. That was a promise I knew I could make to myself, but I knew he'd never want to hear it at this weight, so I didn't promise it to him. I couldn't speak, even if I wanted to. It was like there was a weight on my tongue. Thing is, only part of me knew that it was for the best. The other parts were too clouded from thoughts of Harry. 

“You need a new comfort,” I began. “Something that isn't food.”

He looked away. “I know, but it's hard to change my habits overnight.”

“I don't expect you to,” I said. 

“I know.” He bit his lip. “Thing is, I want to yell at you and say you don't understand, but I know you do. It makes it hard to get mad at you.”

I smiled. “Any feelings you have, I've been there. You can tell me anything you want. It will stay just between you and I, except if I feel like you're going to hurt yourself. Then I have to say something. You can trust me, you know.”

“I know,” he replied. He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself. “I've always felt like food was the only constant in my life. The only thing I could rely on, you know? I guess it's really the only thing I've ever felt like I could count on, because at the end of the day, anything I wanted to eat was always there.”

“Have you always struggled with your weight?” I asked. 

He nodded as he tossed away a box of salted top crackers. “Yeah. My whole family has, really. I was chubby as a kid, always have been. I was born heavier than the average baby, and my mum fed me too much as a toddler. I was always hungry, is the thing. By the time I was in kindergarten, I was thirty five pounds. Ten pounds overweight kind of progressed, and here I am now, almost seven hundred pounds.”

I nodded. “I get you. Tell me about your family, and I don't mean their weight. I want to know what they're like.”

“I don't know what to say.” He shrugged. “My sister, Gemma, she's always been underweight. When Mum finally decided it was unhealthy and put her in a treatment facility, I was basically on my own, so I turned to food for a friend. It's sad, really. Almost pathetic.”

Harry's eyes misted over with tears, and I stopped halfway through tossing a bag of Miss Vickie's into the garbage bag. It fell to the floor with a loud bursting sound. 

“Harry—” For the first time since I started working in the hospital, I was at a loss for words. His sister had an eating disorder. He used food to fill gaps in his life that he couldn't fix by ignoring. He thought his mother didn't care. I was working with so much more than an over eater. I was working with someone who had scars hidden away—someone broken. I didn't know where to begin to fix him. I didn't even know if I could. 

He sensed my unease, just as I knew he would. He said, “I know you're not a trained therapist, and I'm not asking you to be one. If I tell you these things, it's because I want you to know, not because I feel like I'm obligated to. I'm fine, honestly.”

Thing was, I knew he was lying. It was written all over his face. 

// 

Things got hard after two months. For starters, Harry had only lost twenty pounds—ten behind schedule. I didn't blame him, though. I knew what it was like, the disapointment when the weight didn't disappear like planned. Like assumed. Like expected. It just wasn't that easy. 

The only difference between him and me was that Harry had someone. My toothbrush was beside his in the bathroom. I knew how he liked his eggs and what juice he drank in the morning. He knew my night time routine. 

I knew at the three week point in his weight loss that he needed an extra push. He spiraled early on—much earlier than I ever expected. So I moved in with him. I don't know how it was brought up, only that we both decided on it, so there I was in his flat, living there like I would be in mine. 

He only had one bedroom, so I was sleeping on the couch until week six. That's when it started to hurt my back, so I started sleeping in his bed with him. He was insecure at first—and he still was at two months, where I was still excited to see his face first thing in the morning—but I didn't care about his weight. It didn't make me see him any differently. We cuddled the best we could. The day I could wrap my arms all the way around him would be the day he was truly healthy, and I couldn't way for that day, no matter how much I loved us right now. 

It's not like we were even anything, anyway. I was a therapist, and I wasn't even that. I didn't really know what to call us, so I didn't say anything. 

It was a year after this that Harry was ready for surgery. He had lost the fifty pounds—a slow but rewarding process. I was so proud of him. So I told him. 

It was just us in the hospital, him lying in a bed and me by his bedside as we waited for the doctors to prep the room. I was holding his hands while stroking his knuckles. It was one of many moments we had shared over the course of fifteen months. 

“I'm so freaking proud of you,” I told him. 

He smiled. “Thanks, but I couldn't have done this without you.”

I shook my head. “This was you. You decided you wanted the change, you put in the effort. I was just along for the ride.”

He wanted to say something, I could tell, but he didn't. Instead, he placed his hand on my cheek and pulled me in for a kiss. We had kissed before—not often, but we did—but it had never felt like this. This one was different, gentle. 

My eyes fluttered open when he pulled back. He felt it, too—I saw it in his face. A look of fear flickered across his eyes before I kissed him again, just as sweet as he did to me before. 

The doctor performing his surgery told Harry he could die on that table. I was told the same thing, but I was still here, living and breathing like normal. This didn't feel like my surgery. I had so much more to lose this time. 

I placed my hand on his cheek and stroked my thumb under his eye. “Don't die on me,” I murmured. 

His eyes softened. “Not on purpose.”

Over the year, I wasn't so much an in-home therapist as I was his friend. Or boyfriend. I didn't know. But there were feelings involved, and I didn't know how to talk to him like I did my other patients without making him think we didn't have anything special, because we did. 

“Listen,” I began. “You mean a lot to me, you know. Usually I'm pretty good at words, but with you, I never know what to say.” He snorted, and I leaned closer to him so our noses were touching. “I love you,” I told him. “Be strong in there.”

His eyes widened when I pulled back. “Louis, I—”

I really didn't mean to blurt it out like that. I had fifteen months to think about it—I knew he was what I wanted. There was a chance he may never come out of that room alive. I needed him to know I loved him now more than I ever did. 

“Shh,” I silenced him. “You don't need to say it back. I needed you to know.”

His eyes met mine and his lips parted. He looked so unsure. “If I come out of there, tell me again,” he said. “Never stop telling me, because I'll believe you one day. When I'm thin like you, I'll think I'm worthy, and I'll accept it.”

I didn't understand what he was saying, mostly because I didn't want to. It was all wrong, so wrong. He was worthy of my love. He was worthy of anyone's love. He didn't need to be a hundred pounds to deserve it. He just needed to be the Harry Styles I fell in love with. 

I tried to tell him, but he closed his eyes and stopped listening, so I held his hand in silence. After a while, the doctor came and wheeled him away. 

“I love you,” I called after him. “I'll see you as soon as you wake up.”

This was so incredibly messed up. I wasn't planning on telling him like this, not when he was about to make the biggest decision of his life so far. I didn't fully understand how I felt about him, so I didn't know what came across me when I thought this would be best. 

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I had become his caretaker, something my mother was to me before I got the surgery. I needed to tell him before he became independant and didn't need me anymore. I didn't think it was going to be healthy, no matter how many times I assured myself things would be okay. 

I needed to make a few phone calls. 

//

“Where is he?”

I was almost completely calm in my seat when the voice startled me. My heart rate picked up all over again, and I forced myself to stand and shake the woman's hand.

“Louis Tomlinson,” I said. “Harry's in surgery. He's been there for about three hours. I'm estimating two to four more.”

She nodded, but she looked skeptical. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

“Anne.” The man beside her put a hand on her arm before shaking mine. “Robin Twist, Anne's husband. We're sorry about the hostility, we're just worried. We haven't seen Harry in years and to have this be the reconnection is a lot to process.”

“I completely understand,” I replied, trying to be comforting. “You can trust me. I've had this surgery before. Now I'm a patient support person.”

Anne nodded again. She seemed suspicious. “His sister should be here soon. We called her, she said she's on her way. Harry and Gemma used to be so close; oh, this will be really nice.”

I sat back down and allowed them to have their moment to talk. They seemed like nice people, but Anne was more in-my-face. I understood; Harry was her son and despite the fact that she hadn't seen him in years, she was obviously protective. I could only imagine what his sister would be like, considering there was always an unwritten bond between siblings, one that wasn't always as easy to detect but was so loving. I had lived it four times.

“His dad should be here as well,” Anne said after long stretch of silence. “He was never really present in his life, so I'm hoping he doesn't come up with an excuse for this.”

“I'm sure he'll make it.” Comforting people on their relationships was definitely not what I was trained for. Give me someone with a weight problem and I could change their lives, but I was awkward and, quite frankly, a little stupid with every other topic. 

Gemma showed up an hour after Anne and Robin. Her hair was in a bun, she was wearing sweats and a plain T-shirt, and she didn't look too thrilled. Not that I could blame her. After all, it was nearing one in the morning. 

She sat down after talking to her mum, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until she noticed me. 

“Who are you?” she asked when she did, and I could already feel the over-protective nature exploding with the arch of her eyebrows. 

“Louis Tomlinson. I'm Harry's... Well, I'm not sure what I am. I'm a supporter for all people undergoing Gastric Bypass surgery. We met around a year ago and I helped him lose the weight he needed for the surgery. That's why you're here.”

She eyed me. “So you're a therapist.”

“Not exactly,” I replied. “Listen, I've been the only person he's had through this whole thing. I think him seeing you all is a great way to help him heal. He has scars on the inside, and he needs his family.”

Anne sighed. “His weight was out of control. It embarrassed the family, it embarrassed him. He made the choice to leave, we didn't kick him out.”

“You shouldn't be embarrassed to be around him,” I said, frowning. “With all due respect, Mrs. Twist, he's a great guy, and he deserves so much more than what you've given him. This isn't about you. This is about Harry and the fact that he needs your support.”

Anne went to speak, but Robin put a hand on her arm. “I know we haven't been the best of parents,” he began, “but you aren't going to sit there and tell me what's best for my step-son.”

“I know more than you do.” I tried to calm myself down, but I couldn't. My heart rate picked up and I couldn't control my anger. “I've been down this path. I haven't talked to my family in seven years. I know what he needs. He needs his family to love him and support him. That's you three.”

“His father's here.” Anne looked away, nodding her head toward the door. She knew I was right, which was why she refused to respond. 

I watched the man come in the waiting room and take a seat beside Anne. He shook her hand and Robin's hand, said hello, and then fell silent. He looked at me for a moment, but he didn't speak to me. I simply held my tongue and started chewing on my knuckles. 

It seemed like days until the doctor finally came out to inform us of Harry's state. He was the doctor I used—the one specified for Gastric Bypass surgeries—stood there in front of us, looking tired and slightly worn out. 

“He's fine,” he told us. “He's sleeping right now, but the anestetic should wear off soon. When he wakes up, he'll be in a lot of pain, so we'd like to keep him here for the rest of the week, possibly two. You remember all this, Louis.”

I smiled. “I do. The most painful part is waking up.”

The doctor chuckled. “You can go see him in a half hour. We'll be in to feed him soon.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Anne replied, her lips pressed together tightly. 

I didn't want to be the first one to say something, but I knew I had to, even if it wasn't my place to tell Anne what she was supposed to do with her son.

“He's going to look so skinny,” Gemma murmured, more to herself than out loud, but I couldn't not say something. 

“He's going to look the same as he did before surgery for the first little while,” I said. “In the first five month, he'll lose around a hundred pounds, then it'll slow down slightly. The first year is when the most weight comes off. After the first year, the doctor will cut his excess skin off, and then it'll happen once a year until they deem it not needed.”

Harry's biological father finally looked at me. “How do you know so much about this? Who are you?”

“I'm Louis Tomlinson,” I told him, sighing. I really didn't want to explain this anymore. “I offer support to people going through Gastric Bypass surgery. A year ago I met Harry and I've been his therapy figure ever since. I went through the surgery myself without any contact from my family, that's why I think having you all here is so important. Support and love was the thing I needed most and I didn't have that. That's why I put so much pressure on myself to give Harry everything I never had, but I can't give him the unconditional love that comes from parents and siblings. That's you four. He needs you all.”

Robin gave me a surprised but fond smile, and Harry's dad reached out to shake my hand. 

“I'm Des Styles, by the way,” he told me. “Harry's dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” I replied. 

The half hour until I could see Harry again was painful. The anticipation, the worry—it all tied together to make me sweat and feel like hell. When I entered his room, Anne shoved me out of the way to give him a hug, and Harry's eyes widened. He was in pain, anybody could see that, but the tears were coming from seeing his mother for the first time in nine years. I would have given anything to have that. 

“Mum,” he said, trying to get his words out through the tears. “Gemma, Robin. Dad—Oh, it's so great to see you all.”

As much as he was happy, I could see the embarrassment, could sense the uncertainty. This was still the same guy who told me he left home at eighteen to save his family from being associated with him. I was the only person he had for the past fifteen months, and I felt protective over him for that reason along, regardless of the fact that I loved him. 

We had so much to say, Harry and I, but for now, I let him be alone with his family. Whatever it was he needed to tell me and whatever it was I needed to tell him, it could wait a little longer. I wasn't going anywhere, and I knew he wasn't either. 

//

When Harry was finally able to go home, Anne insisted on driving him, but I put up a fight. In the end, Harry tried to drive himself home to stop the fight, but I managed to convince him to let me take him. Why was Anne trying to be there for him now, nine years too late? I told him just this, and he caved. 

“She hates me,” I said while on the road. I was thirty, well past too old for having this conversation, but here I was, having it. 

Harry bit his lip. “She doesn't like how you tell her what to do. She says it's disrespectful and that she knows what she's doing. I told her you mean well, but she doesn't get it. I love her and all, but you're right, she can't just come into the picture nine years after I needed her and pretend that things are going to be the same. That I'm going to be the same.”

“Guess you don't need me anymore,” I muttered. 

“Louis...” He sighed. 

“No, no, I get it,” I said. “You're not overweight anymore. You can be your own person.”

“I'm still fat,” he replied. “Jesus, look at me. I haven't lost any weight yet, but I'm going to. I've been waiting for this day most of my life. Don't sit there and mope. You know what this feels like, you know how it is to finally be able to not rely on everyone.”

This wasn't my job. My job was to be supportive, not bitch about a patient when they no longer needed me. I regular cases, I'd only be here for the next six months unless they still needed me. But in regular cases, I wasn't attached, nor was I in love. I was pretty certain about that in this point and time. 

“I know.” I didn't know what to say to him. “I get it, I really do, but I also know more about this than you. The first while is hard. I told your family to be supportive, but I'm not sure if they're ready.”

“They don't care. Not really,” he said. 

“Gemma loves you more than you know,” I told him. “It took me five minutes with her to figure that out. She's really protective, Harry. Maybe I'm possesive, but I don't want to lose what we have—lose you—to her.”

He didn't speak for a few moments. “This isn't like your old cases, is it?”

The answer seemed rather obvious, but I knew Harry wanted to hear me say it. I took a deep breath, tried to muster up all the courage I could, and just let the words fall freely. 

“Yeah, it's different,” I said. “It's different because I'm in love with you. And don't give me that bullshit about you needing to be anorexic-thin to deserve love, because that's not true. I loved you at almost seven hundred pounds, and I'm going to love you at the weight the doctors deem healthy.”

He clenched his eyes shut. “I don't understand how you can like me. I'm... Actually, I don't know who I am. I've always been fat, nothing more and nothing less. You think I'm ready for the day I'm anything but? Because I'm not. This isn't easy.”

“I know,” I replied, trying to hold everything else I wanted to say back. 

“How did you do this?” he asked. “I'm terrified, so fucking terrified. I don't understand how this is going to work, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.”

“You're not supposed to feel anything,” I said. “You feel whatever you happen to feel. Yeah, the beginning seems scary and it's hard to adjust to the diet and eating three bites of food and being full, but you'll adapt. It gets easier, I promise. I did this alone. You're not alone. You have me and your mum and your sister and Robin and your dad. That's a lot of people.”

He snorted, smiling slightly. “Sure. They can show up now and be considered supporters.”

“And I've been here fifteen months and I'm considered one?” I was turning his retorts against him to make him understand. “I know that I've been here the whole time we've known each other and you have a gap that needs nine years of love and more to fill, but that doesn't mean they don't care.”

“Right, like you're so certain,” he spat. 

“Yeah, I am.” I was getting too frustrated for the sensitive subject we were dealing with. “If they didn't give two shits like you claim, they wouldn't have shown up.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. I knew as soon as he turned his head away and refused to talk to me that my point had sunk in. Sure, Anne, Des, and Robin weren't the best parents, but they loved him. At the end of the day, that was what mattered. 

“We need to talk,” I spoke up. If I didn't get it out then, I don't like I ever would have. 

“I know,” he responded. “But before we do, I want you to know that I don't know how I feel about you. I can't tell if you love me out of sympathy or not yet. I know you're going to spout some speech, but you've got to realize that this is tough for me. If someone told you ten years ago when you were the most vulnerable that they loved you when you looked like that, like I do right now, would you believe them?”

“No,” I answered. I was finally getting it. It wasn't so hard to imagine anymore. I was living half of this now, I was in his life for the time being. He could chose to kick me out or keep me, but for now, I was his. It might not have been right, but it felt so right—so unbelievably right—that I couldn't argue. 

“Exactly.” For a moment, I forgot we were still in a conversation. “Just—let me think about it. Let's keep us the same as we were before now until I figure it out.”

“Okay,” I replied. 

It killed me to say it, but I knew I had to if we ever had a shot at being together. For the time being, I held my tongue. It was much harder than I thought it was going to be.

// 

It was hard. Even though I never thought for one second that it was going to be easy, nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. 

For years, food was Harry's comfort, something he turned to when he was upset. Eating was how he coped. He couldn't do that anymore, and I knew how tough it was because food was my crutch for most of my life. I had ten years to change that. I knew he'd adjust, but I also knew it was easier said than done.

He was miserable, to say the least. Whenever things became tougher than normal, he'd try to eat more than he should and it would all come up, leaving him more disapointed in himself than he ever had been before. Seeing him struggle was difficult. He lost so much self-confidence in the first two weeks post-surgery, which was scary because he didn't have any in the first place. 

We were falling to pieces. Any shot at a relationship was now in the toilet. Harry strived for independence, and being in a relationship would strip him of that. As much as I hated to be in the background, I treated him like any other client. It worked before, when I was trying to convince myself I didn't have feelings for him. 

Nothing I promised myself worked. Not when I was at Harry's first doctor's appointment with him upon his request. We talked about it—in fact, it was all Harry could talk about—every waking moment of the day.

I patted his thigh gently. “He's probably just going to weigh you. Make sure you've met this month's goal weight.”

His face fell a little. “I feel like I'm nothing more than a number.”

“That's not true.” I linked our hands, squeezing his tightly. “You're so much more than a number.”

“My life is all weight and scales and making sure I exercise. I never get a break,” he said. “It's a little too much sometimes.”

I squeezed his hand again. “I know how it is. It hurts, I know. I told you, the first year is the worst. It only gets easier from here.”

“I know you always say that because I always complain.” I was confused as he started what I knew would end up being a plea for reassurance. “I'm sorry for always being in a shitty mood and not being the best... whatever I am to you.”

“I'd prefer it if we were dating, but you don't seem to want that,” I said. “You want your independence, and I get that. I just wish you would give me an answer. I don't want to wait for you forever. I don't know if I even can.”

He was going to answer, I knew he was, but the doctor came to get him and he didn't get a chance. I came in the room with him and sat down on one of the chairs. I reached for his hand and he took it and squeezed.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” the doctor greeted him. “So, what we're going to do today is weigh you to make sure you're on track with the weight loss.”

“Okay.” I watched as his saliva got caught in his throat and as he tried to speak around the lump but couldn't. For the thousandth time since I'd met him, I was at a loss for words.

“What I'm going to ask of you is for you to step on the scale, and then we'll remove your clothes and look at your stitches,” the doctor continued.

Harry paled, the lightest white I'd ever seen his face. “Okay.” 

“You can do this,” I assured him. 

I, along with the doctor, had to help him keep his balance long enough to stand on the scale. This appointment was like a flashback for me. I knew everything he was feeling; the embarrassment, the shame. 

When the doctor bore Harry's stomach and thighs to look at his stitches, it finally sunk in, and I felt like the biggest idiot for the longest time. 

//

It was four days after his appointment that he sought me out to talk. He had hid from me at Des' house for the past ninety-six hours. 

I was done ridiculing myself for my stupidity and insensitivity, but I was well prepared for Harry to do the same when he came through the front door. I was on the couch, reading the newspaper, and he was biting his bottom lip and dragging a suit case along with him. 

He came over and sat beside me, still biting his lip. The silence was uncomfortable, filled with our unspoken—yet obvious—confusion and anger at each other. I didn't want to give into him, as immature as that sounded. I never got a chance to live any type of high school relationship where I lived the “he said she said” nonsense. I wanted it right now. 

Eventually, he spoke. “I don't want a relationship right now. I like acting couply, but I don't want to have a label.”

“But what difference does the label make?” I asked angrily. “We're still going to act the same, we're just going to be official boyfriends.”

He swallowed. “You smother me too much.”

He didn't offer me anything else, but I didn't need him to. I seemed to know what he was feeling before he did, and that was the root of the problem. He didn't even get a chance to decide his own feelings before I was jumping down his throat with my personal experiences. I finally understood his hesitance. 

“I know,” I replied. “I know I do, and I'm sorry. I'm so used to doing that and I'm not sure how to handle you, and—this is fucked up, Harry, really fucked up.”

“It kind of is,” he agreed. “I want to be my own person for a bit. I do see where you're coming from, but I also have my own feelings and part in this.”

“I know you do,” I said. “I'm sorry for being so involved, I know it's not always wanted. This has been my job for six years, but I suddenly don't know what to do. This is so different from what I'm used to, you can't expect me to be everything you need.”

“You promised me that you'd be my rock, so yeah, I actually can,” he responded, his expression holding a “duh” tone. 

“I'm trying to be,” I answered, “but it's not just me anymore. You've got your family.”

“A lot of your patients have. That doesn't make me any different,” Harry said. 

I groaned. “I know. It's different because I'm in love with you, alright? I don't see you as just another patient, I see you as someone I can spend my life with.”

He swallowed hard. “You don't mean that. I'm too fat for you to love me.”

“Harry.” I didn't know what to say. “You don't need to be skinny to be worthy of my love. When I was seven hundred pounds, I didn't think anyone could love me, either. And I know I'm going against what you just said by saying I get what you feel, but I really do.”

“I know.” The two of us said that way too much; I wasn't sure if either of us really meant it. “I can't—I can't picture anyone other than you with me, but I also can't picture anyone at all. I don't know how to think up someone loving me at this size. I know I'm losing pounds, which makes me happy, but I'm also scared. And everything I tell you, you already know, and that frustrates me.”

“Why?” I asked, pleased that we were getting somewhere.

“Because I feel like you're living in my brain,” he replied. “Everything I think and feel, you've already experienced. I need to grow, but I can't with you because you're always here. I love you, too, and I want to be with you, but I need to be my own person for a while.”

“I understand,” I responded. “But, um... Will you still keep a relationship in mind?”

Harry looked down at the floor and nodded. “Yeah. I want you, just remember that. Right now, I need to be independant. Maybe in a few months I'll want there to be an us.”

I was at a loss for words. He had never told me he loved me before, and with nothing happening relationship wise, it was a mixture of butterflies and a stinging pang of rejection in my chest. 

“Okay,” I finally said. I didn't know what else he wanted from me. I never knew what he wanted, was the problem. He had a habit of keeping it all bottled up. It had always been that way, the whole sixteen months I've him. 

“Don't be mad,” he pleaded. I could sense him getting upset. 

“I'm not,” I said. “I'm just... Well, I don't really know how I'm feeling. I feel a little numb.”

“Numb,” he repeated. 

“Yeah,” I replied. “I don't know what to feel. You tell me you love me but you don't want me right now. I understand, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.”

Harry hung his head. “I know, but I'm not apologizing. It's not easy for me to make my decision with you kissing me and cuddling me and holding my hand all the time.”

“Wow, okay.” I was stunned. I didn't know what to think, and the numbness was still there. “That's really great of you to say, Harry. I'm doing it because you told me you liked it. I'm doing it because I'm in love with you.”

He blinked slowly. “I'm fat and ugly, you can't possibly love me.”

I wanted to pounce on him and wring his neck. I was so frustrated with him. I wanted him to see himself the way I saw him. I loved him. I was so in love with him, and I wanted him to understand that. 

“Harry,” I began, “please understand this: I'm going to love you no matter how much you weigh. Jesus, Harry, I think you're beautiful. So beautiful. I know you just told me you want to be single for a while but please, baby, just give me a chance.”

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. I didn't know if it was the nickname that threw him off, or if it was a matter of me finally wearing him down, but I didn't care. Not when he nodded, despite his eyes being wet. 

“Okay,” he said. “I'm trusting you with everything I have. You can't—you can't be another one of those people pushing me away when things get tough. My own family abandoned me when I got too heavy for them. You can't be one of those people.”

It hurt me to hear what he had to say. He didn't understand, no matter how much I tried to get him to. I reached for his hands and squeezed them tightly, sighing. It was slightly fond and slightly exasperated, and Harry smiled.

“God, I love you,” I said. “I loved you at your heaviest and I love you now and I'm going to love you forever. I've told you this so many times and I don't know how to make you believe me.”

“I'm trying to,” Harry replied. “Please believe me on that. I'm trying to make myself feel good by repeating what you tell me, but that makes me scared because I'm so dependent on you and I can't have you leave. I've handed so much of myself to you on a silver platter and you take it without questioning, I just—I was trying to build a wall until I thought I was loveable.”

“You are now, baby,” I murmured. “You're everything I need, everything I've ever wanted. I can be that person for you, I promise.”

He swallowed hard, but he didn't fight me on it. “I'm trusting you with everything I have. If you break my heart, I will kick you out of my flat and never talk to you again.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” I grinned. 

“Come kiss me,” he said, and I was happy to comply. 

I pushed him back against the armrest, digging my fingers into his fleshy sides and pressing my lips to his. We had kissed hundreds of times, but never like this. He had never let me go any farther than a makeout, but as my hands drifted under his shirt, it was clear it was going somewhere. 

I was about to pull his shirt over his head, but he stopped me, knotting our fingers together. I kissed his nose and pulled away. I knew his boundaries. He had told me before that sex wasn't on his list. He didn't want it, ever, and I was okay with that. I wasn't sure if I really wanted it either. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said, but I just shook my head. 

“Hey, if all we do is kiss for the rest of our lives, I'm okay with that,” I assured him, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He smiled. “We're boyfriends now, right?”

“If you want us to be,” I answered. “You know how I feel about you.”

He nudged his nose against mine, kissing my lips quickly. “I want us to be. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I murmured. 

We had come a long way today. Fifteen minutes ago, he was shutting me out. Now we were a couple. I didn't understand it, but I embraced it with everything I had, because Harry deserved that. He deserved everything I knew I could give him and so much more that I couldn't think up in a thousand life times, but I knew I had to try. 

//

After six months, everything went to shit. The weight wasn't falling off the way Harry wanted it to. Although it was how much the doctor had said was healthy, it wasn't enough for Harry. He started to increase the length of his walks without the suggestion from his doctor. He could tear his stitches open, could make himself sick. It just wasn't healthy. 

“I'm going for a walk,” he told me one morning while I was drinking a cup of coffee at his kitchen table. 

“No, you're not,” I argued. “Today is your day off, remember?”

He shook his head. “I have to walk, Lou. I need to lose weight.”

I took his hands and held on tight. I was exasperated, but I didn't have the heart to show him with the look he was giving me; the pleading in his eyes was heartbreaking. 

“Baby,” I began, “today is your day off. Take it. You deserve it. You know that you could seriously hurt yourself if you do more than what the doctor told you is healthy. Do you want to rip the staples out of the pouch and have to get surgery again?”

“No,” he replied, looking down and pouting. “I don't want surgery, I just want to lose weight.”

“And you are,” I told him, touching his cheek. 

“I'm not losing as much as I want to, though, Lou. I want to be skinny like you are.” He looked down, tears welled up in his eyes. 

I snorted. “Believe me, babe, I'm not skinny. Look at me, I'm chubby, but I'm healthy, so I'm okay with myself. Listen, love, you're never going to be model thin. You're body just wasn't built that way. You can be healthy, though, and you'll get there if you stick with the plan you made with the doctor.”

“I know, I just—I'm tired of being fat,” he said. 

I thumbed at his cheek. “I know, baby.”

His therapist, Francine, said maybe intimacy was a good idea, so I could show Harry that he could be loved at any weight, and for be to be completely comfortable in my own skin, but I doubted it would ever happen. I kissed him like we would anyway, pressing up against him.

“Lou.” He pulled back a bit, looking unsure. I slid my hand up under his shirt, just testing the boundaries. 

“Is this okay?” I asked.

“I—I don't know,” he responded, stumbling over his words. 

“You know that I've never had sex before?” I told him. I wasn't sure why I did, but looking back now, I think it was a good thing that I did so I could see the look of trust in his eyes. 

“Me neither,” he said. 

It was odd to think about, I must admit, us being twenty-seven and thirty year old virgins. I was never in a relationship before Harry, and I sure as hell wasn't comfortable enough in my own skin to go and sleep with a random person. Sex wasn't ever at the top of my list, anyway. It was always about eating or obsessing over my body, and eventually, my surgery. Food has always been my main focus, and even still, nothing had changed very much, but I was okay with it being different now as long as I had Harry. 

“That could change now,” I suggested, tapping at his chest, my fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. 

He stuttered. “Louis, I—I don't—I don't know,” he finally got out. 

“We don't have to go all the way tonight,” I assured him, pulling him in closer so our lips were brushing with every word. “I could suck you off or something, or you could do me.”

“Or both,” he supplied. 

I knew he was trying to act okay, but his eyes were shining with tears. I nuzzled my cheek against his and pressed my lips against his ear to soothe him.

“We don't have to, you know that,” I told him. 

“I know, but—” He stops, nuzzling my neck. “I weigh four hundred pounds. What if I crush you or something? I'm so heavy, Lou. I'm scared.”

It took everything I had not to tell him not to be. Francine also said we needed to talk about our feelings more. 

“Why, baby?” I asked. 

“Because I don't want to hurt you,” he replied, almost exasperated. 

I stroked his cheek sadly. “You don't have to be on top if you don't want to.” 

“I don't, but it's not just that,” he said.

“Then what is it?” I prodded. 

“My body isn't sexy.” He sighed and kept our cheeks pressed together so he wouldn't have to look at me. “You've never seen me without clothes on, Lou, and I wasn't planning on you seeing me until I was skinny.”

I turned my head to kiss his head. “I love you, you know?” 

“I know. I love you, too. What's that got to do with what I said?” he asks, bewildered. 

“It has everything to do with it,” I answered. “Harry, no matter what your body looks like, I'm going to love it, because I love you.”

“I'm still so fat.” He was almost whispering now and I felt tears against my neck. “I mean, Louis, my stomach is so gross, my thighs are gross. Everything is huge and disgusting, and I hate my body. How can you possibly like me when I'm this heavy? I just don't understand.”

“Because I'm in love with you, what you have in here.” I pointed to his heart. “Your body is just a container for your personality and I don't care about what it looks like. How heavy you are or how skinny you are doesn't define you as a person. What makes you you is how nice you are. That your kind and considerate and the best person I have ever had the privelage of knowing. I love you so much, baby, okay? I have this whole time and I've never stopped and I never will, especially not because you're trusting me enough to let me see you in that way.”

I felt his Adam's apple move against my own throat and his arms finally properly wrapped around me to hold me back. I was overwhelmed with how much I loved him, and I was biting my lip with anticipation of his answer. 

It seemed like ages, but when a little “okay” came out of his mouth, I couldn't stand looking at him anymore. I stared into his eyes for what felt like hours and then I kissed him as I slowly pushed him back towards our room. 

I laid him down on the bed, crawling on top of him as I continued to kiss him. I felt so good, just being with him like this, and we had barely even started. My heart was rabbiting against my chest and I couldn't ignore it, but I also didn't care. I had been with Harry for almost two years, six months dating, and I knew him better than anybody, but I didn't know this side of him.

When we were finally naked, I sat back on my heels and took in the sight of him. I didn't care that his stomach had a few rolls on it. I didn't care that his thighs were thick and wrinkly near the knees with excess flesh. I thought he was so breathtaking, no matter how much he tried to squirm and cover himself. 

I took his hands and pinned them to the mattress, kissed down his neck, over his chest and torso, sucked love-bites into his inner thighs. 

“You're so beautiful to me,” I murmured, kissing it into his skin. 

I wasn't naive, I knew one time having sex wasn't going to change is opinion of himself, but I wanted to believe it, so I kept going. When I sucked his cock into my mouth, everything we went through was worth it to hear his small gasp and feel his hands fly out to tangle his fingers in my hair. 

It wasn't rushed, nor was it anything kinky. It was slow, simply me showing him I loved him, and as far as first sexual experiences, it was amazing. It wasn't perfect, but it sure as hell felt close to it. And when he kissed me after, I knew this wasn't going to be the last time. 

//

When Harry got down to one hundred and seventy five pounds, the doctors told him that was a healthy weight to stick to their maintaining plan for him. 

By this time, we had been together five years, were engaged with our wedding planned for the following day, and plans to adopt a baby. Everything was suddenly happening so quickly, and it felt like it did seven years ago when we first met. 

When we slid rings onto each other's fingers as we told each other we loved each other, it felt like it did when we first told each other. 

And when we held our daughter, Elissa, for the first time, it felt like we finally had something to show for how hard we worked to get through all the shit we did. It didn't feel as different as it should have, but I was okay with that. I had my little girl and my boy by my side, and nothing could ever get in the way of me being happy again. Not even gaining a couple pounds, because we made each other feel beautiful. My family was all I ever needed. 

Flash forward ten years into our marriage with our daughter, and it still was.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW THE ENDING IS SHIT but maybe you enjoyed anyway?


End file.
